


Down On Your Knees

by YukiSetsu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Langst, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Starvation, Team Voltron Family, i love them, uhh what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiSetsu/pseuds/YukiSetsu
Summary: Lance gets captured and forced to beg for the basic necessities to survive. And when the team finally rescues him, it's a long process to get him to feel normal again.





	Down On Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello i'm back and procrastinating harder than ever

“Are you hungry?”

Lance was. His stomach seemed to squeeze even at the slightest mention of food, a dryness creeping up his throat in its desperate need for _something_ to eat. He tried to move, to get up and maybe fight his way out of the cell, but his body wouldn't listen. Or maybe it couldn't, too deprived of energy to even give his limbs a chance to work. How long had they starved him this time? Lance lost track a while ago.

“What a pathetic little thing you are.” The Galra's voice crept back into Lance's ear, grating in his mind. A foot kicked at his side, but Lance could barely react, too exhausted as he let his body slump further against the wall. Lance blinked, catching those bright yellow eyes right in front of him again. “Willing to starve yourself to death before we reach the main ship this time? Lord Zarkon will be impressed.”

He called himself Commander Xig the first time he'd met Lance after his capture. The team had split separately during a mission on an unknown planet, and Lance had been unlucky enough to venture into a hidden Galra camp. He'd barely gotten a word into the comms before his vision went black, only regaining consciousness when they'd thrown him into this cell.

“Speak up if you're hungry, human.” Xig crooned, one hand reaching out and grabbing Lance by the hair. He pulled, making sure Lance was looking directly at him. “You know the drill.”

Lance groaned, his hands useless by his sides. They'd unchained him ever since they realized he'd gotten weak enough to handle even if he did try to stage an escape, openly mocking his efforts. It was frustrating, it really was. He tried to tug his head away, wincing when the grip tightened.

“Beg.” Lance knew it was coming, but he still stiffened when he heard the word. He'd heard it too many times now. “Beg for some food, and maybe I'll consider letting your pitiful self live another quintent.”

The first few times he'd been offered the deal, Lance had been quick to refuse, too offended to even consider the thought. No way would he be ever caught begging a Galra for anything. But that resolve crumbled quickly after some time. His brain reverted back to its survival instincts, willing to do anything to keep on living. He even needed to beg to use the bathroom, which was the worst part. The guilt only seemed to swallow him once they finally gave him something to eat or drink and he felt like himself a little bit more. But then the cycle would repeat, and Lance always seemed to cave.

Lance groaned when the hand pushed his head against the wall. Xig was staring with the same expression he always had when he looked at Lance—like he was nothing more than the dirt on the ground. “This is your last chance.”

He wanted to eat. He _needed_ to eat. Hell, he'd even take a little water if that was all he got. So many times had Lance wanted to just refuse and risk the chance of death, but he never managed to follow through. It was pathetic. So pathetic.

“P-please,” Lance whispered, his voice scratching against his throat. “Please let me eat.”

Xig grinned, eyes glowing. “You know that's not enough.” He removed his grip on Lance's head, straightening up to his full height. “You must _beg_.”

And Lance finally managed to move, his desperation enough to seep some strength into his body as he pushed himself up and onto his knees so he faced the floor, his hands trembling as they held his upper body up. It was almost second nature, moving into such a humiliating position to ask for the bare necessities.

“Please, Commander.” Lance choked out, eyes burning with angry tears. He hated this. He hated himself. “Please allow me to eat. It's more than I deserve, but I... I beg you.”

He heard Xig laughing above him, like he always did. “And what are you?”

“...Nothing. I'm worth nothing.”

“And why should I feed a waste of space like you?”

Lance's arms reached their limit, and he sunk to the ground, his knees against his chest and his forehead uncomfortable against the cold ground. He shivered, feeling like maybe dying might be the greater mercy at this point. “I'm sorry. Please... Please...”

There was some more laughter before he heard footsteps moving away. “Bring him some food. Not much—just enough to sustain that useless shell of a body.”

Lance barely moved even when he heard the cell door slam shut, too drained and miserable to do anything else but let himself slump onto his side, staring at the wall instead. He felt the tears pushing against the back of his eyes, but only a few drops managed to track their way down his face. Probably too dehydrated.

He thought of the others, his teammates, wondering what they were doing. Were they looking for him? It's been too long, so they must have given up. A small part of Lance hoped they did.

Because at this point, Lance wasn't even sure if he _wanted_ them to find him like this.

* * *

 

Lance slept a lot. Maybe too much. But he didn't have the energy to do much else. Scenes would melt in and out view whenever he faded back into consciousness, mostly when Xig came in to taunt him again or get a few hits in just because he could. Lance didn't care anymore. He was exhausted. By that point, the only times he managed to force himself to move was when he needed to beg for food and something to drink.

He wondered if Shiro had gone through the same thing he was going through right now. Maybe even worse. Lance couldn't fathom how Shiro had survived all that time in captivity. How long had he been here? It felt like years, but it couldn't have been.

He was tired.

* * *

 

Someone was shaking at his shoulders. Lance shrunk away, his head rattling painfully at the movement. Must be Xig again, or one of the guards. But the hands kept grabbing at him, wrapping around his arms and tugging him off the ground. They weren't treating him as rough as they used to, and Lance fought to open his eyes, squinting at the light streaming in to see what was going on.

It was Hunk.

Hunk?

Lance blinked again, his mind a haze. He must be dreaming. Hunk was saying something, his expression distressed under his helmet, but Lance had trouble hearing what he was saying. The words seemed to filter in through bits and pieces, and Lance had to close his eyes to hear Hunk clearly.

“—nce! Please say something, buddy. Please.”

It felt like forever since he'd heard Hunk's voice. Lance didn't realize how much he'd missed it. What a realistic dream this was. “Hunk?”

Lance heard Hunk choke something out, almost like a sob. “Oh, thank God. Yeah, it's me.” The arms squeezed around Lance's body tighter, as if afraid he'd disappear if they didn't hold on tight enough. “I'm so sorry. You're safe now. You're okay.”

Lance's stomach tugged, but it wasn't out of hunger this time. Hunk was moving him again, and Lance let him, the noise growing muffled in his ears. He didn't want to fall asleep right now, but he suddenly felt so tired. His body jostled whenever Hunk moved, but the pain had grown dull, and he didn't mind it. Another hand was suddenly in his hair. But surprisingly, it didn't dig into his scalp and pull like usual. It was gentle and slow, as if checking for something. It was a nice feeling, and Lance leaned into it subconsciously.

Huh, maybe he wasn't dreaming.

* * *

 

Lance woke up in the pod, the cold seeping out of his skin just as the door slid open. Someone caught him as he fell, and he felt a bunch of other hands reach at him. He tried to blink his vision back to normal, catching the rest of his team staring at him with varying degrees of relief. It was almost surreal seeing them again.

He straightened up, testing out the feeling in his legs. It felt weird to be standing up again when he could barely sit up not so long ago. But he could move his arms and legs normally now. Everything seemed normal. Everything _was_ normal.

Someone grabbed at his shoulders again, and Lance barely caught himself from pulling back in surprise. It was Hunk, his face a tear-stained mess.

“We looked everywhere for you.” Hunk sniffled. “I swear we did. I'm so sorry we took this long.”

Lance tried to swallow, but his throat felt too dry. He tried for a smile, reaching up and squeezing one of Hunk's wrists. “It's fine, man. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No, we should be the ones apologizing.” Allura cut in. She was standing off the side, her expression openly guilty. “We didn't notice something had gone wrong on your end of the mission until it was too late.”

“We're just glad you're back.” Pidge said. She'd managed to squirm her way in front of Hunk, one arm looping around his torso in a tight hug. “You focus on resting. You've been through a lot.”

Everyone was acting like he'd done well, and it made no sense. He'd been useless and weak the entire time he'd been captured. They just hadn't seen it. Lance sighed, eyes landing on Shiro just in front. “How... How long was I gone?”

Shiro grimaced just slightly. “5 weeks.”

“Oh.”

Pidge squeezed him tighter. “The pod said you were completely malnourished and dehydrated.” Her voice sounded terrible, almost hoarse. “You're hungry, right? Let's go eat first.”

Lance's stomach tightened at the question, almost in a panic. Was he hungry? Maybe he was, he couldn't tell. But if he was hungry, he'd need to beg for food and—

“I'm not.” Lance said, digging in his heels when Pidge started to steer him towards the door. He winced at the confused looks. “Hungry, I mean. I'm not hungry.”

There was a long silence, one that Keith finally broke. “What? You _have_ to be hungry. There's no way you—”

“I'm really not.” Lance said, slowly tugging away from Pidge and Hunk's grasp. They let him, although they looked stunned. “Maybe the pod helped me more than I thought. I just really wanna... go to my room and rest.”

For a moment, no one seemed to know what to say. Shiro cleared his throat, although he didn't look any less concerned. “Are you... sure? You don't want anyone with you?”

“I'm sure,” Lance answered quickly. He already started to step towards the doors, the sensation of walking on his own still feeling odd. “Just for a little bit. I wanna put some actual clothes on and wind down, you know? You can check in on me later, if that makes you feel better.”

It wasn't convincing. None of it was, but no one seemed to have it in them to protest and make him do otherwise. As he left, he was surprised that he managed to find his room so easily. It felt like ages since he'd navigated down the Castle halls, but guess it was all second nature now. He walked inside simple enough, only to slow to a stop when he caught sight of the bathroom, the panic rising up his throat in an overwhelming wave of nausea.

No, he didn't need to beg for things like that anymore. He was back at the Castle. Safe. He was safe.

He could eat when he wanted. He could drink when he wanted. He could use the bathroom when he wanted.

Right?

But his legs wouldn't move, trembling at the mere thought of going inside without permission. He needed to ask. That's how it was. He didn't need to go right now. He was fine. He could hold out.

But what about when he needed to use it?

Lance shuddered out a breath, walking to his bed and sinking on the mattress. He slumped forward, burying his head in his hands. After a few moments, he grabbed his blanket and threw it over himself, ignoring the fact that he hadn't even changed out of the healing pod suit.

He was fine. He didn't need anything.

* * *

 

Lance woke up hungry. A sudden urge that had him jerking upright in bed, the blanket fluttering off him in a heap. He felt at his stomach, feeling the familiar grumble that spread across his abdomen when it was empty. He felt hungry to the point of feeling ill. He wanted to eat.

“ _Beg.”_

The thought sent a chill down his spine, and Lance almost wanted to throw up. He probably couldn't even do that, since he had nothing to expel. But no, he didn't need to beg anymore. He _didn't_.

Lance stumbled to his feet, hands shaking as he finally took off the pod suit and changed into his regular clothes. It was a comfortable feeling to wear them again, but it wasn't enough. What time was it? How long had he slept?

He stepped out into the hallway, taking in the eerie quiet of the corridors. It felt abnormally chilly, and he tugged his hoodie a bit closer around him. He'd go to the kitchen. Find something to eat. If he didn't run into anyone, he should be fine.

He kept his head down, hands clutching at the fabric covering his stomach as he walked. He'd make it a quick trip. In and out. He'd eat in his room. No one would know. He'd talk to them once he was feeling better.

“Lance? You're awake.”

Shiro's voice. Lance jerked to a stop, his breath catching in his throat.

“ _You know the drill.”_

“... Lance?” Shiro asked again. Lance heard the footsteps come closer, and he gripped at his clothes a bit tighter, trembling at the effort not to run. “What's wrong?” Shiro sounded a bit more alarmed now. “Are you hungry?”

The question seemed to drain the strength from Lance's legs, and he all but crashed onto the ground, kneecaps burning from the impact. His arms caught him from falling face-first, and he was back in that position again. The position he hated so much. But it didn't matter now.

He spotted feet appear just in front of his hands, and Shiro's hands were suddenly on his shoulders, infinitely careful. “Lance, talk to me.” Shiro said, his voice pleading. “What's going on?”

Lance tried to breathe, his chest having gotten exponentially smaller. He ducked his head a bit lower towards the ground, hoping it was enough. He was crying, he realized. He hoped Shiro didn't see.

“Please... Please let me eat.”

The hands on Lance's back froze. “...What?”

Lance trembled at the question, pushing his head so low his hair brushed the ground. It wasn't enough. “Please let me eat, Shiro. I'm sorry, I—I don't deserve it, but just a little is fine. That's all I need.”

“Wait,” Shiro said, voice tight. “Lance, what—”

“I'm sorry. Please, just a little.” Lance let his forehead touch the floor this time, tears blurring his vision.

“Lance, hold on—”

“I beg you—”

“ _Lance!_ ” Shiro's hands moved, more forceful as they pulled Lance's shoulders so that he was upright. Lance gasped at the motion, flinching when Shiro reached for Lance's face with both hands, pulling him so close their foreheads touched. His chest rattled with each breath, unsure of what it was he was supposed to do. The proximity made it so that all Lance could see was Shiro's expression, eyes almost... pained?

Oh.

_Oh._

Lance tried to move away, panic giving way to full-on embarrassment, but Shiro's grip was too firm. This was the last thing he'd wanted to do, especially in front of Shiro. The blood roared in his ears, oblivious to the situation as he tried to muster an explanation. Maybe he could blame it on a nightmare.

“Lance,” Shiro whispered, although his voice still carried that strong tone of authority. “Can you hear what I'm saying?”

Lance's mind reeled, too overwhelmed to make any decisions for itself. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” Shiro pulled back just a bit, searching his face carefully. “Why are you begging?”

Lance shuddered, stomach dropping when Shiro's grip tightened just a bit in response. There was no talking his way out of this one. “I... I had to.”

Confusion filled Shiro's eyes, the disbelief filtering in almost immediately after. “On the Galra ship? They made you...?”

Lance swallowed, throat infinitely dry. “Yeah.”

For a second, Shiro's expression went so dark it had Lance's blood run cold, even though it wasn't directed at him. But then it crumpled, sorrowful to the point where Lance felt guilty for answering the question. Shiro moved again, and Lance barely had enough time to react before he got encompassed into a tight hug. Lance moved then, trying to wriggle away, but Shiro had one hand wrapped around Lance's back and the other holding his head, making it nearly impossible to move. It happened so quickly, and Lance felt his short-circuit for a split second.

“Uh...” Lance's brain unhelpfully decided to forget basic vocabulary, and he stumbled for a proper sentence. “Shiro, wait... I didn't mean to—”

“I'm sorry, Lance.” Shiro said, voice heavy. It tugged at Lance's stomach, filling him with a guilt he shouldn't be feeling. “You should never have gone through that.”

Lance stared down the empty hallway over Shiro's shoulder, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He hoped no one else came down here and saw them—this was already more than enough to handle right now. “It's not...your fault.”

“We should've found you faster,” Shiro's arms tightened, and although it didn't hurt, Lance winced. “We shouldn't have let you get taken in the first place. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” Lance's throat felt too tight. “Stop apologizing.”

He kind of wanted to ask Shiro to let go, but he also didn't. Maybe he'll just stay like this for a little longer. Shiro didn't seem like he was going to pull away anytime soon, so Lance just... sunk into it. Just a bit.

“You don't have to do that anymore. Ever.” Shiro mumbled. “Anything you need to take care of yourself, just do it. You don't have to ask any of us for permission for something like that. Got it?”

The embarrassment had finished chipping away at Lance's panic, and it just left him bare with exhaustion. He felt another breath shudder in his chest. He'd slept earlier, but he still felt so tired. “Yeah. Got it.”

It took a few more long seconds before Shiro finally loosened up enough for Lance to pull away. He still looked upset, but he smiled as he got to his feet and held out his hand, helping Lance up as well. Shiro steered them back down the hall, one hand on Lance's shoulder as he gave it a gentle squeeze. It loosened up a knot in Lance's chest.

“Come on,” Shiro said. “Let's go eat something.”

And they did.

Lance fell asleep a bit better after that.

* * *

 

Lance didn't mean to, but he got into a habit of waiting until he nearly reached his breaking point before finally realizing he needed to go eat or drink something. Going to the bathroom whenever he needed was fine, but his stomach had gotten accustomed to long periods of having nothing, and it got harder to tell when he wanted to really eat until his body grew too desperate for something.

Shiro—unsurprisingly—had been the first to notice, nearly aghast that Lance was almost going on his third day with no food before he called together a team meeting to talk about what was going on. Lance wasn't upset about it, but it didn't make the fact that he seemingly needed people to remind him to eat like a normal person any less embarrassing. That particular team meeting had been filled with lots of hugs and apologies, though.

And so everyone knew.

One particular day, Hunk decidedly dragged Lance to the kitchen with a stern look on his face. He'd been quick to sit Lance onto one of the chairs, giving him a pressing look.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Lance blinked, trying to recall the past day. _Had_ he eaten? His stomach was no help, since it always felt numb these days. He couldn't remember stepping into the kitchen since the day started, so maybe he hadn't eaten yet.

“Uh... Yesterday? I think?”

“Yesterday,” Hunk deadpanned, brows furrowing in disapproval. “You think.”

A warmth started to creep up Lance's face, and he ducked his head. “Sorry, I don't... I don't remember.”

A hand fell on top of his own and squeezed. Lance startled at the touch, looking back up to catch Hunk's face, which had loosened into one of worry. “No, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, dude.” He pulled back, reaching over and sliding a bowl of food in front of Lance. It smelt amazing, to be honest. “I made something that tastes suspiciously like French toast this morning, so I was hoping you could try some. If you want.”

Lance looked back at the bowl, somewhat relieved to feel his stomach grumble appreciatively at the scent. He looked at Hunk again, a grin on his face this time. “Smells awesome. You bet I'm trying some.”

The smile Hunk gave out-rivaled the food he made. And the food was pretty damn good.

* * *

 

Lance had gotten better at prompting himself to eat at least twice a day, falling back into a familiar rhythm that felt foreign just days ago. Everyone on the team still had moments where they casually invited Lance to join them in a meal, but those grew more and more sparse as things seemed to normalize. Once in a while, Pidge or Keith would unceremoniously drag him for an evening snack “just because”, Shiro would hand him an extra water pouch during training, Hunk would go to him first whenever he decided to test out another snack, and Allura and Coran would even sneak him some fancy Altean candy that the others hadn't even heard of. It was nice.

But then the nightmares started.

They started small, little bursts of panic that woke him in the night. He never remembered why he woke, but the tremors and cold sweat coating his body told him it was good that he didn't. But they got worse, darkness melting into purple and sending him back into that cell, where the air was cold and piercing. Where his stomach churned every time he heard footsteps echoing down the hall, his limbs too heavy to even scramble away against the furthest wall. Where cruel laughter grated against his ears and all he could do was lie there, begging for relief. When he started having _those_ nightmares, he woke screaming, thrashing, reliving. And then he would reorient himself, remember where he was. Safe, he was safe.

Right?

It was the second night of nightmares, and going back to sleep was out of the question. Lance threw the covers off, heading to the bathroom and washing his face. The cold water felt nice, startling his brain awake and driving away the foggy haze behind his eyes. He was at the Castle. He was safe.

Maybe he should eat something. Just because he could. Just to remind himself. He put on some slippers, tugging his night robe around him as he padded down the hallway, careful not to walk too noisily. He wondered how late at night it was. That didn't matter right now.

He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing an empty bowl and filling it with some space goo before he settled at the table. But when he lifted his spoon, he couldn't move it. His hand froze, held back by something he couldn't see. And Lance tried, he really did. So much that his hand trembled in his efforts to get a spoonful of goo. But he couldn't.

Lance slammed the spoon down with a groan, digging his hands into his hair. He ducked his head, breathing hard as he swallowed down the panic creeping up his chest. This was stupid. He was being stupid. He'd been doing _fine_ all this time. It was all in his head.

“I can eat,” Lance whispered shakily. “I'm at the Castle. Xig's not here. I'm safe.”

He knew he could eat. He already knew it. So why couldn't he get over it?

He sat there a bit longer, trying to calm down enough to try again. Even if it was just half the bowl, he'd eat it and head back to bed. If he couldn't fall back asleep, he'd at least try to relax until the morning.

But as more time passed, nothing changed. It was an endless cycle of picking up the spoon, placing it back down, burying his hands in his head, and telling himself it was fine. It was kind of pathetic, really. Lance bit back a groan as he tossed the spoon away, his chest tight as he heard it clatter on the floor. What was wrong with him? He leaned back against the chair, palms pressed against the back of his eyes. He needed to calm down.

“I'm fine. I'm safe.” Lance mumbled, trying to push down the tears building up against his hands. _Calm down_. “I can eat, I _can—_ ”

“Lance!” Someone grabbed him and Lance startled, whipping around in his chair and tearing his wrist away from the hand. It took a second for his vision to normalize, and Lance felt the panic ebb just a bit when he caught sight of Keith standing there, hands up in a passive surrender.

“Are you... Are you okay?” Keith asked, eyes almost as panicked as Lance's.

Lance sat there, chest heaving. Why the heck was Keith here? “I'm fine. I'm fine.” His throat felt too small. He couldn't breathe. “I'm okay—I'm just...” One hand reached up at his throat, wishing his he could pry it open and let more air get through. It hurt to breathe.

Someone—Keith—grabbed at his shoulders again, but Lance was too distracted to pull away this time. He ducked his head, eyes falling shut as he felt his body shudder with each inhale, straining in the effort to give him the amount of oxygen he felt like he needed.

“—eed to breathe slowly, Lance.” Keith's voice filtered in, sounding almost muted in his ears. Lance tried to listen, the rattling in his throat almost overpowering. “Can you hear me? Slow down and breathe. Just... count out each breath. 5 seconds for each. Got it?”

They were crude instructions, but they were enough. Lance reached up, gripping at Keith's arms like a lifeline as he fought to even out his breaths, letting Keith count down each time. He was fine. He was safe.

And gradually, it got easier to breathe. His chest had loosened, air flowing through like it never got stuck in the first place. Lance peeked his eyes open, catching a nice, blurry view of the floor as he blew out another long breath. Keith was still there, still gripping at his shoulders, but his hold had loosened a bit marginally once Lance started to calm down. He'd trailed off in his counting, as if realizing that Lance at least stopped hyperventilating. After a few seconds, Lance let go of Keith's arms, wincing at how stiff they felt as he tried to relax them. Yikes, he'd been holding on way too tightly.

He was suddenly so tired. Exhausted, actually. The fear of sleeping and risking another nightmare brushed at the back of Lance's mind, but he didn't care. Keith was here, so he'd probably wake him up before it got worse. Probably. Sleep tugged at his eyelids, and Lance was suddenly grateful Keith had a hold on him before he let himself drift off again.

* * *

 

When Lance woke up, his head was on a pillow. His pillow. He wasn't in his room though, given the sitting position he was still in. He stirred, feeling a blanket slide off his shoulders as he sat up. There was a flurry of movement somewhere beside him before he heard Hunk's voice.

“He's awake!”

Lance turned, catching Hunk sitting in the chair right next to him, a relieved look on his face. He was still in his pajamas, too. Lance looked back, the others still in various stages of morning attire, looking more than a little concerned as they stared back at him, although their expressions loosened once they met his eyes. Keith was the only one who looked the same, still in his regular clothes like he had been when he'd found Lance last night. Had he stayed the whole time?

Lance's attention went back towards Hunk, who was busy tugging the blanket back around Lance's shoulders. He fussed with it for a bit until he nodded, satisfied. He looked up, the smile on his face not enough to cover the worry in his eyes. “Morning. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Lance said, shifting uncomfortably. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—”

Hunk held up a hand, easily cutting off Lance's words. “No apologizing. Or explaining. Keith told us everything. Coran and Allura found you two here in the morning and went to get everyone else. Figured we'd let you get a little bit of sleep before we talked.”

Wow, talk about embarrassing. Lance wondered if he could make a run for it before anyone stopped him. “It was nothing. I just had a bad dream and Keith caught me at a bad time.”

“No, that's a _good_ thing.” Pidge pressed heatedly. “If he hadn't found you, then none of us would've known. Because you definitely would've acted like it never happened.”

Lance held his tongue, knowing she was right. But what else was he supposed to do? It was something he could deal with on his own. And when Hunk leaned forward, wrapping Lance in one of those hugs he appreciated so much, it got increasingly difficult to ignore the stinging in his eyes.

“You should've told us you were having nightmares.” Hunk whispered, his own voice cracking as well. “We can help you.”

“It's stupid.” Lance's voice shook. He didn't want it to, but it did. “I should be able to handle it by now.”

“There's no deadline to get over things like that, dude.” Hunk said, gentle. “We're gonna get through this together, alright?”

Lance sniffled, nodding before Hunk pulled back, making room for the others to crowd near him. In any other time, he might have felt awkward. But he didn't mind the little smiles, the light hugs, the warm looks. It was those moments that made him wonder how lucky he was to have a team like this all the way up in space.

A new hand was on his shoulder, and Lance looked up to see Shiro, a careful smile on his face. “Let's have breakfast together and we can talk about what we can do.”

Hunk was already standing up, heading to grab some bowls for everyone as he waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I already thought of something.” He glanced over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. “Not sure if anyone noticed, but the lounge is a _perfect_ place for a team sleepover.”

 


End file.
